Briar knew he was home. That two girls had been yammering in his head for days was enough to let him know he was almost there. He had even just given the girls yet another reassurance that he was, in fact, at the well-known crossroads that led to Emelan—and Winding Circle.

He urged Chumpy forward as two figures appeared in the distance. One girl, a dark-skinned Trader in breeches and tunic, halted a few cautious lengths in front of the horse. He ain't gonna bite you, Daj, Briar told her, a wicked grin beginning to spread on his tanned face.

Daja was obviously not amused. Why do I not believe you, she retorted silently as she exchanged guarded glances with the tall, scarred beast. Sidling closer, her eyes moved from the horse to Briar. "Welcome back," she said aloud, for the sake of the green-clad dedicate at her side.

"In time for the Midsummer festivities," the dedicate said, smiling. Lark fearlessly petted Chumpy, who whinnied like a fresh foal under the woman's hands. "Charming animal," she remarked, before turning to the figure emerging from a nearby covered wagon.

The shorter woman brushed clouds of brownish dust from her robes. "Charming like a rabid wolf." Rosethorn glared at Chumpy before hugging Lark and greeting Daja. "Where's the others?"

Daja laughed. "There's another coming." Everyone's gaze turned to the direction her pointed finger indicated: the curiously pink cloud of dust heading from the road to Emelan. Briar groaned and dismounted. "Better get off 'fore that crazy noble jumps onto Chumpy's back. He bites."

"I thought you said he didn't!" Daja backed away from Chumpy carefully, black eyes snapping.

Briar grinned. "He don't always."

"Now you tell me." Sea-bred Daja tolerated only extremely necessary contact with horses. They're unpredictable animals, she explained silently. Ships are more dependable, with winds and steering and currents and all. I mean, just look at that! she exclaimed as the blue-eyed noble, Lady Sandrilene, flew off her mount and immediately tripped on her pink flowing split skirts.

Before he could even turn around, Sandry and Little Bear had hit at approximately the same time. "You're finally home!" she shrieked at a seemingly impossible pitch as she jammed her face into his breastbone. Briar gasped as her arms squeezed the last bit of breath from his lungs.

"Lay off, Duchess, you're crunching my bones!" She released him with a withering glare, only to jump right back on seconds later, with Little Bear happily nipping at the boy's ankles.

After what seemed like hours of squeals of glee and barking and joyful dog slobber, the little group finally noticed the wagon driver's impatience and the dust that was slowly creeping into everyone's clothes.

"Shall we?" Rosethorn said, her harsh voice almost wistful. "I'm rather glad to be home, and this definitely isn't it." She kicked at the dust with one sandaled foot, only to raise more thick drifts into the hot summer air.

Lark linked arms with both earth mages and turned to the wagon. "Just a little bit further," she explained to the surly driver, as the five of them- Briar leading Chumpy- began to walk down Temple Road toward Winding Circle's outer walls.



"By the way," Lark began as they moved towards Discipline, "things aren't exactly the same inside. Briar, I believe your room has been left mostly untouched, but Sandry and Daja have been relocated to the attic for the time being." "Is Comas still with you?" Sandry asked. The shy novice had eventually taken both to the cottage and to Lark. Not that anyone couldn't like Lark, she thought.

"He's at the Water Temple right now, learning the finer arts of applying bandages to real people, and also attempting to integrate back into novice quarters." Lark smiled. "He's doing quite nicely, I must say."

Sandry frowned slightly as she pinned one sun-streaked braid back into its place in the complicated twist of her hair. "I hope we don't scare Comas away. Sometimes he even speaks to me, but not often. All of us arriving in a horde might make him uncomfortable." Also, he hasn't met Rosethorn yet.

And if he's shy with you, then Rosethorn's welcome-to-my-garden-touch-it- and-die-painfully speech might not go over so well, Briar added.

"Since he's still technically a Discipline resident, his stuff's still in place in your old room," Daja told Sandry. "So we set up cots in the attic, unless you want to move in on Tris. She'll be here in a week or so, though Niko sent Little Bear on ahead months ago."

"Bet Bear here was a real fan of the scholarly chuffs," Briar remarked dryly as he tied Chumpy at Discipline's gate, tugging at the knots to check their strength.

"I'm sure he made quite an impression," a dry voice added as Briar jumped. Crane emerged from where he had been silently standing, hidden in the overgrown greenery near Discipline's fence.

"Stalker," muttered Rosethorn, though she couldn't seem to keep from smiling cruelly at both her student's discomfiture and Crane's obvious dislike of the energetic dog.

Crane glanced at her coolly. "I prefer to call this a clever ambush. Welcome home."

She hasn't killed him yet. Sandry looked absolutely scandalized.

Maybe she's too glad to be home? Briar replied, though he too was bewildered at the sight of his teacher and her sometimes-enemy amicably shaking hands and blandly chatting. Even Lark looks a bit pale.

I think I'm a bit pale, Daja added, as the lanky Air dedicate carefully skirted Chumpy's leg range after polite goodbyes. She hasn't even mauled him or cut off his thumbs or-

-Threatened to hang him upside down in the well, Sandry finished in unison. Maybe she's mellowing with age?

I definitely think not. Briar said regretfully. She ain't stopped biting my head off, at least.

Rosethorn, finished with her pleasantries, turned back to the group to find all four mages staring at her, gaping. "What," she said irritably as her hands flew to her hips, "is the matter with the lot of you?"

"Nothing," Lark murmured, smiling, as the children averted their eyes hastily. "Nothing at all." Rosethorn pursed her lips out of anticipation; she knew Lark far too well to expect silence on the matter. "But I must say, Rosie, that you were almost- actually, extremely- civil to that man you often called unrepeatable names, and to his face."

Briar grimaced. "And I must say –"

"You must say nothing, boy," Rosethorn interrupted. "Absolutely nothing. Now if we return to the task at hand?"

Lark coughed gently, not quite disguising a laugh. "Certainly." Rosethorn gave her friend an impressive glare.

"Maybe we should drag down the extra pallets from the attic and put an extra in Briar's room," Sandry suggested in a mild tone of voice before the silence became too tense. "I'm sure Niko would rather stay here than at the Water temple dormitory, he had quite a few things to say about their organization."

"I'm afraid Daja's room has sustained some slight water damage," Lark admitted. "When I can actually get someone to come down here and fix the leaks and perhaps strengthen the walls, we'll have three working bedrooms. But for now, we can probably fit an extra mattress in my workroom, and maybe a couple in Rosie's, if we can air out the mustiness this afternoon."

"I've heard there's been something happening at the Hub lately. A meeting has been called tonight, so you three can have some time to rest and talk at Discipline while we're gone. Don't get into any trouble."



Rosethorn reiterated her warning before she, Lark, Frostpine, and many other powerful Dedicates began to congregate outside the Hub. "No messy business," she warned.

"Yes, Rosethorn," they chorused grudgingly. Like we're kids, Briar grumbled.

"Rosie, they're not ten anymore," Lark said, giving the three a rather significant warning look. "In fact, they're fifteen."

"Very nearly almost sixteen," Daja murmured rebelliously. The calmer dedicate, much amused, firmly led Rosethorn away by the arm toward the main entrance.

"I know what that Look meant," Sandry said with a sigh. "She backed us up against Rosethorn, so we had better not get in trouble."

"Otherwise?" Briar asked, raising one eyebrow.

"There is no otherwise." Daja said, as they walked onto the path leading back to Discipline. "Lark's nice, but I'm still quite sure that we don't want to know her otherwise."

Later, ensconced comfortably on the roof's thatching, they managed to contact an extremely grumpy, tousled, dusty Tris, who had opted to riding in a crowded wagon instead of upon a mount. I didn't know what would be worse: getting thrown off a horse repeatedly, or being bumped by trunks and listening to Niko constantly muttering incoherently both to himself and to his contact stone. I chose Niko, and look where it's got me. I can't even read, it's so loud in here.

He on to something? Briar asked. The far-seeing mage that had discovered the hidden talents in all four young students always seemed to be investigating some semi-plausible vision. He peeled a bit of Sandry's loose hair out of his mouth, pretending to gag as the girl took the lock from him with a scathing look.

Tris sighed. If they called a meeting in Winding Circle, then he most likely has. I think the other owner of the specific contact stone he's been using is Dedicate Moonstream. I think. His mighty Mageness hasn't let me listen, and he even went so far as to set up some irritating, noisy counterspell around his sitting area.

They have called a meeting, and at the Hub, Daja told her grimly. Does it look like something important?

He hasn't been thinking of anything else. I have to feed him occasionally, because he forgets, and he hasn't even noticed all the dust- and he's always so persnickety about being clean. Besides, he wouldn't be so frantic if it wasn't something big.

The three others could feel Sandry's presence tremble. Big, like five years ago big?

I hope not. Daja shuddered, remembering the earthquake, pirates, and plague. Don't you think Winding Circle has had enough problems?

He's coming out of his spells, Tris said rapidly. I'm going to bug him again. I'll let you know if he tells me anything. Rest up just in case can't wait to see you all now bye

And with that, Tris slammed their mental connection apart. The three, alone on the roof again, looked at each other with concern.

"Well, I guess it's not Winding Circle if there isn't problems," Daja concluded regretfully. "I'd better be off to bed. Frostpine is going to teach me to etch protective symbols on wire tomorrow, so I can't let my eyes be tired and blurry."

"Uncle's riding in to speak with Moonstream about whatever happens tonight, and also to get his hands on her half of Niko's speakstone." A small dimple appeared in her cheek as she smiled slyly. "You two can meet Yasmin- and Pasco." The Duke's furtive romance with the famous dancer was the city's worst kept secret; the palace guards had been taking bets on Vedris's marriage date for two years, and many city folk had referred to Yasmin as the Duke's Lady several times within Sandry's own earshot.

"Maybe they can help me weed," Briar said glumly. "Rosethorn already gave me tomorrow's orders, and it's weeding. She won't plant the garden unless it's entirely weed free."

Daja turned towards Sandry, pretending to be furious. "You mean," she said, only her smile giving away her ruse, "Briar will be digging in the dirt and I will be picking at wire, whilst you prance around the Duke wearing silks and nibbling sweetmeats?"

"Yes," Sandry replied uneasily, inspecting her fingernails. "But I'll likely be as uncomfortable as the both of you, since Uncle has warned me to wear something fashionably heavy and hot. I wore split skirts to the last meeting I attended with him, and evidently outraged some powerful cousin of Uncle's. Lord Stuffyface's emissary will be riding in the party tomorrow. You'll see them when they ride by to pick me up in the morning."

Briar snorted softly, his lack of respect for stuffy Bags clearly intact. "Maybe I'll get up early and roll around in the mud before they come. Y'know, look respectable and all." Sandry's hair, waving in the slight breeze, began to work itself into the collar of his shirt. If you can't keep 'em under wraps, I could always shave it for you, he offered silently. Sandry stuck her tongue out at the boy.

Daja sniffed, unaware of their conversation. "You could have showed them your tattoos, if you hadn't marked up your hands yourself." Briar spread his hands and grinned at the shifting vegetable oil tattoo. "You know, I heard Duke Vedris's son will be there."

"His second son. Lord Tennesal is a lot nicer than that Frantsen." Sandry scowled at the thought of Vedris's pushy, abrasive older son. "Tell you something, though. If you promise not to tell."

"Promise," Daja and Briar answered, rolling their eyes. Not telling was a given among the four.

Sandry leaned closer, her bright blue eyes gleaming. "Uncle's given up on Frantsen, after he received the last set of bills from Estate Renall. Uncle and Lord Erdogun have already drawn up a new will, with Tennesal as heir to Emelan." Daja gaped, her eyes wide. "It's not as if Uncle's ever had any illusions about what Frantsen's rule of the city would be," Sandry said, shrugging. "He just hoped he would grow out of it."

"You can't grow out of being stupid," growled Briar. "Does that Tennesal fellow know what he's up for?"

Sandry shook her head, looking at her lap. "Uncle and Erdo and I will tell him tomorrow." She peeked out from under her mass of loose hair. "Uncle let me sign as a witness," she added wickedly. "It gave some of the servants fits, having a lady do a man's work. I didn't realize only men could sign their names on a piece of paper." She shoved her loose hair back behind her shoulders yet again. "Just because they grow out of me, they think they don't have to behave when I tell them to!" Sandry yelled.

"What's with your hair, anyay?" Daja asked. "You usually don't wear it loose, and for good reason. It's kind of messy." The Trader touched her own long hair, neatly arranged in a series of thin braids.

The noble's posture drooped. Slapping her hair with her hands, both Briar and Daja could see the shimmer of magic attacking the strands until they lay flat again. "When I put my hair up the way the way a young lady should, it has to be free for a while. Otherwise, it moulds itself to the shape it is in braids." Pounding the straw thatching with her fist, Sandry scowled. "I didn't use to mind dressing up for Uncle once in a while, it's just that it's harder now that I'm big and- and –"

"You ain't big yet," Briar said lazily, picking at the hem of her skirt. "You're shorter by more than a head than me or Daj."

"Evidently, big enough," Daja said cryptically. "Ow!" Sandry had pinched the other girl.

"What?" Briar asked.

Daja smiled innocently. "You'll see tomorrow, when all those nobility are dancing around Discipline's front yard, and Sandry dressed up like a doll, in silks fit for a Princess."

By then, Sandry had already lunged at Daja, dragging her both magically and physically off the roof into the hatch. "You promised!" she yelled, her voice muffled by the roofing.

"Just teasing," Briar could hear the Trader answer, "And I did a pretty decent job of it, too, until you started to beat me-"Sandry shrieked something incoherently as Daja laughed hysterically.

"What? What?" Briar called, now alone on the roof. What? The door to Tris's room slammed. He crawled into the attic, but both of the girls were gone; he could hear them muttering away at each other.

Girls, he thought irritably. I'm going to bed, he added, and he did.